A Story
January 26th 2009 00:10
Just the story of a villain character I'm working on:
Kamilla was born on a farm, like her two brothers and three sisters. From a young age she worked each day from dawn until dusk, maintaining the farm. She got her free education, but the only member of her family allowed any of the courses for a fee was her eldest brother, who learned to hunt.
From a young age she heard her mother's bitter tales of the past. Her mother would be churning the butter, milking the cows, cooking the food; and she would be by her side, helping and listening to tales of grandeur.
“Before we came here, my father had everything. We had servants to clean our house, servants to cook our meals; though we could afford to buy our food, instead we had animals-and servants to tend to the animals. I had beautiful, elegant clothes and jewels; they were my mother's before she died. My brothers had beautiful brides.”
“But then we were framed; the family of Calmar-Cold Winds-framed us with the assassination of the prince. It must have been them, for they were our only enemies.”
“Though my brothers were married into rich families, they were stripped of their own titles and lived rich only because of their brides. I was too young to be wed as of yet, and so my father and I took the fall; we came to live here, not of our own free will but by force. We had to sell our fancy clothes for livestock. It took us some time to learn how to tend the animals, and so we spent most of our money on farmhands to help us and to teach us.”
“And then I was old enough to be wed two years later; and I was married to your father, a good man but nothing in comparison to the man I had been engaged to. I knew I could not escape the poverty then; my last hope was a rich marriage. But my engagement had been cancelled. No man in his right man would want a disgraced Valendar. No man.”
Kamilla would listen to her mother, and soon she became bitter as her mother, having to do the farm work each day. Watching her brothers marry one by one, while she stayed and took on extra labor that they left behind. Watching her eldest sister marry.
She dreamed of marriage, dreamed of a marriage that may free her. But when she turned thirteen no man came to seek her out. There was no man willing or wanting to marry her. And so she waited. She watched, and she waited, and she vowed vengeance upon the family and the government that had condemned her to endless farmwork.
She would close her eyes and dream of the dresses her mother had talked of; there was still one, the dress that had been saved for her mother's wedding. Often she would sneak into her mother's room and put this dress on, dreaming that a handsome man of money would come and take her away from this place, this place of endless farmwork.
But still, on her fourteenth birthday, no man came. Her mother seemed both grateful and worried of this; she was now too old to give birth, and there was no one left to help around the farm. Her father passed away that year, and it was just the two women alone.
And then, three weeks before her fifteenth birthday, she was working on the fields in one of her mother's dresses-she needed new ones because of a recent growth spurt. While it was not beautiful as the wedding dress, it was prettier than anything she had ever owned, and it fit her now quite well.
A man saw her working the fields, slaving away. She was harvesting corn; this was one of her least favourite duties, but she was almost done for the day. The man got off his horse and tied it to her fence before climbing over; she took no note of him, for they could live with one less stalk of corn, if that was what he was after.
He began to work with her, and a moment later walked up to her, a large batch of corn in his arms.
“Why does a beauty such as yourself work so hard?”
“For I have nothing else,” she whispered, “no marriage to free me; no money to run away with. All I have is this farm and the old woman that my mother has become.”
“Then take me, bring me to this mother of yours, for I have an offer to make.”
Wordlessly she led him back to the farmhouse, where her mother waited with her arms crossed. The one farmhand they had hired was bringing in more crops. Kamilla sighed to see the pitiful thing their farm had become; more pitiful than it had been before... with no one to tend to it now. Her brothers and sisters and father gone from it. Left to wither.
“Who is this?” she asked briskly.
“I am Lyndell,” he said, “a man from Edon. As you likely see, I am no rich man; but I am climbing the ladder, and soon I will become a man of great stature.”
“And this matters to us?”
“I have come to ask for your daughter's hand in marriage.”
It was with her mother's simple nod that Kamilla was engaged to Lyndell, to be married in three weeks, on her fifteenth birthday. This was to be her escape.
Kamilla was born on a farm, like her two brothers and three sisters. From a young age she worked each day from dawn until dusk, maintaining the farm. She got her free education, but the only member of her family allowed any of the courses for a fee was her eldest brother, who learned to hunt.
From a young age she heard her mother's bitter tales of the past. Her mother would be churning the butter, milking the cows, cooking the food; and she would be by her side, helping and listening to tales of grandeur.
“Before we came here, my father had everything. We had servants to clean our house, servants to cook our meals; though we could afford to buy our food, instead we had animals-and servants to tend to the animals. I had beautiful, elegant clothes and jewels; they were my mother's before she died. My brothers had beautiful brides.”
“But then we were framed; the family of Calmar-Cold Winds-framed us with the assassination of the prince. It must have been them, for they were our only enemies.”
“Though my brothers were married into rich families, they were stripped of their own titles and lived rich only because of their brides. I was too young to be wed as of yet, and so my father and I took the fall; we came to live here, not of our own free will but by force. We had to sell our fancy clothes for livestock. It took us some time to learn how to tend the animals, and so we spent most of our money on farmhands to help us and to teach us.”
“And then I was old enough to be wed two years later; and I was married to your father, a good man but nothing in comparison to the man I had been engaged to. I knew I could not escape the poverty then; my last hope was a rich marriage. But my engagement had been cancelled. No man in his right man would want a disgraced Valendar. No man.”
Kamilla would listen to her mother, and soon she became bitter as her mother, having to do the farm work each day. Watching her brothers marry one by one, while she stayed and took on extra labor that they left behind. Watching her eldest sister marry.
She dreamed of marriage, dreamed of a marriage that may free her. But when she turned thirteen no man came to seek her out. There was no man willing or wanting to marry her. And so she waited. She watched, and she waited, and she vowed vengeance upon the family and the government that had condemned her to endless farmwork.
She would close her eyes and dream of the dresses her mother had talked of; there was still one, the dress that had been saved for her mother's wedding. Often she would sneak into her mother's room and put this dress on, dreaming that a handsome man of money would come and take her away from this place, this place of endless farmwork.
But still, on her fourteenth birthday, no man came. Her mother seemed both grateful and worried of this; she was now too old to give birth, and there was no one left to help around the farm. Her father passed away that year, and it was just the two women alone.
And then, three weeks before her fifteenth birthday, she was working on the fields in one of her mother's dresses-she needed new ones because of a recent growth spurt. While it was not beautiful as the wedding dress, it was prettier than anything she had ever owned, and it fit her now quite well.
A man saw her working the fields, slaving away. She was harvesting corn; this was one of her least favourite duties, but she was almost done for the day. The man got off his horse and tied it to her fence before climbing over; she took no note of him, for they could live with one less stalk of corn, if that was what he was after.
He began to work with her, and a moment later walked up to her, a large batch of corn in his arms.
“Why does a beauty such as yourself work so hard?”
“For I have nothing else,” she whispered, “no marriage to free me; no money to run away with. All I have is this farm and the old woman that my mother has become.”
“Then take me, bring me to this mother of yours, for I have an offer to make.”
Wordlessly she led him back to the farmhouse, where her mother waited with her arms crossed. The one farmhand they had hired was bringing in more crops. Kamilla sighed to see the pitiful thing their farm had become; more pitiful than it had been before... with no one to tend to it now. Her brothers and sisters and father gone from it. Left to wither.
“Who is this?” she asked briskly.
“I am Lyndell,” he said, “a man from Edon. As you likely see, I am no rich man; but I am climbing the ladder, and soon I will become a man of great stature.”
“And this matters to us?”
“I have come to ask for your daughter's hand in marriage.”
It was with her mother's simple nod that Kamilla was engaged to Lyndell, to be married in three weeks, on her fifteenth birthday. This was to be her escape.
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Kalikapsychosis
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I Wish This Was 42
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